


Tempt me from Grace

by Anemone_white



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Arrogant Gilgamesh, F/M, Psuedo-character analysis, Saber is too good for the world, Self-Doubt, Slight Blasphemy, Temptation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24156826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anemone_white/pseuds/Anemone_white
Summary: Even the strongest of people can be tempted by the whispers of the devil.
Relationships: Gilgamesh | Archer/Artoria Pendragon | Saber
Comments: 14
Kudos: 53





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone. Just a casual writer passing by who thinks that the Gil x Saber fandom needs some more love. Initially, I had planned for this story to be an epic tale about Saber renouncing her Christianity after experiencing the atrocities of the 4th Holy Grail War, but then I realized that I don't do well with long winded stories. So instead this is the truncated, psuedo-analysis of Saber questioning her faith, all the while Gilgamesh is whispering in her ear. 
> 
> Also, forewarning that there is slight mention of blasphemy if that bothers anyone. I made the executive decision to spell Saber's name as Arturia as well because Artoria is no bueno for me. And I will be completely truthful, this is pretty skimpy on the romance and more character-centric. Nonetheless, enjoy the prologue!

The congregation intently listened to the mellifluous tune. The sound reverberated off the intricately carved domes of the gray, cold masonry. The choir, with obsequious reverence to the Lord and Savior, sang clear and crisp.

_O thou lamb of God, who drawest away from us all evil of this world, Lord Christ, show us thy mercy…._

_\--_

Mass had adjourned, but a solitary figure, cloaked in an opulent blue cloak, sat in the silent emptiness. Dark wooden pews, worn and warped from years of prayer, flanked the enigmatic character. Green eyes wandered to the altar were communion of Christ’s blood and flesh had been undertaken. The eyes traveled upwards to the mural coruscated by the light of the midday from panels of glass in shades of vibrant greens, serene blues, fiery reds and ethereal whites. The image depicted the crucifixion of Christ, his limbs spread across the cross, his head drooping to the left so it touched his collarbone, and the chaos of man fighting man below. Yet, regardless of the harrowing scene presented before him, Christ remained ethereal in the midst of such turmoil.

What, Christ, be the secret to attaining such serenity?

The clink of armor and the heavy echoes of boots alerted the pensive figure of company long before he slid into the nearby seat.

“ Why do you sit so far, cousin?”

The armored man, tall and most evidently muscular under the layers of metal, bowed his head slightly and raised his right arm to his heart in a gesture of servility.

“ I would not dare, my king. For propriety’s sake.”

An inaudible sigh was exhaled, “ As of recent, I reminisce, Lancelot, about those boyhood days I spent wandering the woods of Sir Ector’s land with Kay.” A small smile graced the king’s face but the weariness and sorrow in the eyes tell another tale. “ Do you not, cousin, wish to return to those evenings spent sparring as squires with our ambitions solely set upon being knights?”

Lancelot offered his own small smile, “ The charm of boyhood, when I still called you Arthur and roused your hair, indeed sings a siren’s song. But alas, my liege. Fancies of boyhood are quickly overshadowed by the reality of adulthood.”

“ Indeed. Indeed.” Arturia turned and continued her interminable study of Christ in the stained-glass mural. “ Do you recall the words of Father Columba during today’s sermon?” she asked innocuously.

The knight shook his head, “Forgive me. I was not in attendance during this morning’s mass. Pray tell, what did the Father preach?”

“ I will not bore you with the full sermon, for while the Father is wise, he errs on the side of asperity. But here I shall recite a piece from the sermon. ‘ For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.’” 

Arturia finished her sentence and continued pensively looking at the mural. Unbeknownst to her, Lancelot’s heart palpitated loudly in his chest. He broke the silence. “ My king, what mean you in reference to?” Lancelot feared that Arthur knew the truth, the sin consuming his soul.

She looked at Lancelot, stared at him as if to say something of pertinence, “ I simply wonder, if the Lord truly is almighty and all knowing, then why does He let His children suffer as we have?” Arturia raised her calloused hands and rubbed her face. “This is his trial, to test our virtues and ideals. But, if in His eyes, we are sinners seeking repentance, then I worry for the salvation of all. Lancelot, are our country folk, our kinsmen, our kingdom, damned to perdition by sin and His whims?”

Lancelot twisted and turned the fabric of his cloak, wrinkling the fine velvet. “ I…” he began, “ I do not know, my king.” He inhaled another breath. “We are mere mortals in the face of His divinity. We have all sinned in some capacity, but the severity of each sin, my own heavily weighed, will be judged in the moments before we either enter his eternal kingdom or ascend to the depths of hell.”

“ Do you believe in His mercy.”

“ No, my liege, I do not believe in much of anything nowadays.” He said demurely.

“Is that so, cousin? I wish to believe that you and I are naysayers both.” Another silence stretches as she closed her eyes and murmured a prayer. “Now pray tell, what sends you into these confines after mass?”

An unease sat in the pit of Lancelot’s stomach, was this a test by his king? “ The queen. She requests an audience.”

There was another sigh, “ She means to apologize for not coming this morning. It is a trivial thing, really.” A jovial smile spread across her face, “ Did you two abhor Father Columba’s sermon such that you conspired some nefarious scheme?”

Lancelot’s face paled at the accusation, at the truth.

Arturia laughed, “ I only jest, Lancelot. Do not give me that face of shock. What one does in the early mornings are not privy even to a king. And you, my cousin, have my deepest and earnest trust. Regardless of this great sin you confess to, know that always in you I trust, cousin, know that always.”

“My king.” Lancelot said, the guilt in him overwhelming, “ And to you I swear my eternal loyalty. Even more loyal than I shall be to the Lord.”

“Do not condemn your soul for my sake. “ She shook her blonde head but did not stand. “I wish to stay for a while longer in my thoughts, Lancelot. With speed deliver my apologies to the Queen.”

Lancelot gave a quick pained glance at his king, nonetheless, he bowed and wordlessly left him to his peace. Lancelot, as he strides carried him from this accursed dwelling, dwelt upon that last image of his king. The smallness of his figure consumed by the grandiose of the hall’s sprawling columns, its towering dome, and also its vast emptiness _. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown._


	2. Tempt me not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The seeds of doubt are planted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the show is actually going to get started! This, being the fanfiction is it, does not accurate follow the Fate/Zero anime. The setting is Fate/Zero, but I changed up the timing of some events. I hope you enjoy!

The dense opaqueness of the night sat in still anticipation. In the corner of this desolate street, where the shadows of towering pines loomed and swallowed the morsels of moonlight streaming downwards, stood a staid church. At this late hour, known as the witching hour to some, the façade of the church could hardly be discerned, and perhaps it was for the better. It stood two stories tall, lanky instead of imposing. Unlike the masterpieces herald in Europe, the beauty of works blessed by God himself, this church, with simple wooden paneling and unadorned oak doors, was ascetic and dour. Hardly could this building be referred to as a homage to the Lord, but it was well suited for another task; a clandestine gathering of priests, killers, murders, kings and other entities long thought dead.

* * *

The creak from derelict door hinges and the thud of wood upon wood signaled the arrival of the last guest. He stepped forward in his patent leather shoes, treading the threadbare carpet that was flanked by sparsely occupied pews. The sole source of light laid right beforehand, and he walked on like a moth to a flame. There erect was the alter, draped in a cloth of fine white. On the mantle of that alter stood two silver candelabra with three burning candles each. The steel arms twisted and curved, casting the light a twenty-foot radius before tapering off and returning to a darkness that hid creatures of this earth and those of lore. From the shadows of the right corner, the man noted the blurry silhouette of a tall man with short spiky hair. Juxtaposed by the dark, he noticed the unnatural paleness of the Einzbern homunculus and the conspicuous golden hair of the Saber class servant. In the first rows of the pews sat the goliath of a man, Rider, and his boy master. Others lurked within the room, but the shadows always excelled at hiding those who did not want to be seen. Straight ahead, standing besides the altar was a man dressed in a black robe, his clerical collar conspicuously displayed. The gold rosary dangled from his neck and his hands were clasped behind his back. Kirei Kotomine.

“ Toshaka Tokiomi, you are the last to arrive.” Said the priest solemnly.

“ My apologies.” Tokiomi replied, “ Has the issue of Caster been addressed?”

Kirei nodded his head, “It is thus so decided then. The battle for the Holy Grail shall be postponed till the eradication of Caster. It is impertinent that his terror sweeping upon Fuyuki is stopped.” The priest gestured to his right. The faint outlines of an archway could be seen. “ If you may, masters, please gather in the adjoining room. It is the church’s fervent prayer to hastily and efficiently deal with this hindrance.”

A large muscular man with hair red as fire, the makings of a scraggly bread and overly tight white t-shirt, stood first. “ Let’s go, boy.” He said to the scrawny teenager who eyed the room with apprehension.

Soon, masters and servants began creeping from the shadows towards the said room.

Tokiomi glanced around, hopeful that his servant would be amongst the shadows. He sighed in resignation, fully aware of the independent nature of the King of Heroes. Instead, he saw the Einzbern homunculus step away from the walls, however her servant remained motionless. Faintly, he noted the movement of Saber’s mouth and the nod of white hair. Then, the homunculus turned from the golden glow of Saber’s hair, offset by the candelabrum’s light, and passed Tokiomi.

 _More than one willful servant this time around_. He noted.

* * *

The church returned to silence as everyone migrated to a room filled with warmth and light, save for a solitary figure. She lingered in the midst of this quiet and dark. She was familiar with many types of quiet, this though, it was not the lull of a congregation awaiting the commencement of a hymn. No, it was an eerie silence, one fit for a graveyard. Saber walked those few but heavy steps towards the center of the altar. A deep and unusual echo followed her every step. It was a simple place, even bare to say the least. It did not have domes that reached the heavens. It did not have columns carved with the precision of a mason who cared for the legacy that would be left behind. Most notable of all though, was the lack of religious paraphernalia. There was no Lord gazing lovingly at His children, no Holy Mother holding Christ in his infancy, no cherubs, no angels. In the entirety of the church, there hung a large tapestry on the wall behind the alter. It depicted Christ with his head tilted but the colors were muted and the threads fraying. And there was darkness, so much darkness. It was a dismal and drab church at best.

As Saber stood before the Christ and the altar, she contemplated whether she should go forth with this. Kiritsugu bluntly called her an ideological fool while Irisviel gave her a forlorn smile.

Perhaps she was a fool.

Lowering herself to her knees, Saber clasped her hands together, lowered her head so that her temple and knuckles touched, and then began reciting a piece of scripture. These words had plagued her thoughts as of late.

“Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him.”

A pious Christian prayed to Him because of their fervent belief in Him, not because they felt desperation. Yet so many, including herself, found that prayers and scripture came easiest when desperation sank in. The greater and more manic the desperation, the more one prayed. She felt that her whole life, past and present, had been plagued with desperation. Formerly, she struggled with the war waged against the Saxon’s, and now this war for the Grail. And so she prayed. She prayed to be given the strength to endure the suffering, the strife, and the sorrows once more.

The blonde finished reciting the verse with a wisp of her breath, eyes remaining closed still. Spoken words possess power and she hoped her prayer came into fruition. The flames of the candles dwindled as the wax melted to a stub, but enough light remained to reflect upon her mane. She glowed, ethereal but ephemeral, in the shadowy darkness of the room.

“ I did not assume, Saber, for your devotions to be directed to a god formed by the imaginations of mere mortals. You deign to such mortal folly”

Saber opened her eyes, and without seeing, knew who addressed her. Arrogance of this grander could only be sprouted from the mouth of one. In a lithe motion, Saber stood and turned to face the King of Heroes. His red eyes tracked every movement, the predator in the midst of a hunt.

Unsure exactly why, Saber decided to humor him and answered. “ You forget, Archer, I was and I still am, a mere mortal.” She said somberly. How much validity her statement held was tenacious. She is, or was human; made of flesh that bled from a stroke of a sword and bones that cracked from an onslaught of hits. Here and now though, she could not say.

Archer grinned from ear to ear, a mixture of amusement and intrigue growing. He leaned into his right leg, the clink of his golden armor sounding, and tilted his head boyishly. “ And you forget, Saber, that I am a god. I know divinity. I am divinity. It runs in my vein, it is personified by my might, by my …”

“Arrogance?” Saber interjected.

“ I believe omnipotence is far better suited.” He said with ease.

Why was she having this conversation right now? She abhorred men like him. These types of men, Camelot was riddled with them too, expected the world and prided in their indulgences. Lust, greed and pride sadly formed its own trifecta.

“ Be straight with it, Archer. Why do you even bother speaking with me, your enemy?”

 _Oh how brazen she is_. From the mouth of any other, and he would have silenced such insolence. But that was a different him, in a different time. Instead he spoke the truth, curious about her response. “ Because you are wrong and I want to enlighten you. Do not pray to this false god when a true god stands before you.”

Rage did not mare her face, instead it remained indifferent at the blasphemy of the remark. She countered with a question. “ Then what can you offer me, true god? Salvation of my soul? Salvation of my kingdom? Salvation of humanity? If you can offer none, then ‘true god’, your divinity is for not.”

Saber continued this diatribe because she did want to know. If you implore a person to forsake the Lord who offers an eternal future, then the counteroffer must be of value, a value greater than salvation. She had tried to achieve this salvation before, but alas it eluded her. And with every agonizing recollection of her failures, and with every battle she internally waged against her own morals and Kiritsugu’s unscrupulous ways, her faith wavered. A human could only weather a storm for so long before they are lost to its chaos. So, she was intrigued.

Archer leaned forward, “ Better than that, “ he whispered. Her breath was held as he spoke the last words, “ I offer you power.”

She leered at him, “ You lie. There is no greater power you can offer without compromising your stake to the Holy Grail.”

“No?” he asked coyly. “ You assume, quiet foolishly, so much about this Holy Grail. These mortals who call themselves mages are asinine to believe in the power of a mere cup. And you, Saber, someone so steadfast in your reverence and obedience to the deceptions known as god and salvation, are a fool. There is no salvation, simply life and then death, with pains and pleasures mixed between.”

Saber waited for anger to flood her, waited and waited. Once, long ago, she would have condemned such accusations to her faith. But once upon a time she had been hopeful in the naivety of her youth. Now she was tired. Saber was grappling at straws with her prayers. If the Lord was not real, if the Holy Grail was not real, then what was the point of it all?

There had to be a point to this bloody fighting, there needed to be.

She steadied her breathing. An anger was boiling within her, not at Archer, but at her own potential disillusionment. “ There is no logic to your words, Archer. You talk of the Holy Grail, the divine chalice that caught the blood of Christ as he bled for man, as this powerless object. Yet you have the galls to offer me power? What a debacle!”

 _Oh! the lioness roars!_ Archer continued to smile, her commentary having no effect on him. “ All the treasures of the world had, have and will, belong to me.” He said matter-of-factly.

“This is….”

“ It is not arrogance, it is the truth. That cup which you grovel before once sat in my treasury gathering dust. Then somehow, humans breathed life into it through one tale or another.” Saber stared in disbelief. He did so enjoy the expressions on her face. He indeed was enlightening her. “ Do not accuse me of telling lies. Power is more than just brute strength. It is about control. And I am generously offering you control in the most primal of manners. “

It took a moment for Saber to understand his implication, his innuendo. “ Sex, Archer?” she said with a loud laugh. “ That’s what you’re offering? Goodness, you dare question the faith and profess your sins aloud in the house of the Lord!” The whole conversation was ludicrous. Sex was power? And he dared call her the fool!

“ Sex is not a sin.” He replied with a boisterous laugh. The last flickering glows of the candle illuminated Archer’s face, and in his ensemble of gold, he appeared divine.

“ It is pleasure,” He took one step closer. The anger slipped away as Saber watched, entranced by the dazzling shine of his hair.

” It is freedom.” Now he was a hair’s breadth from her face and she couldn’t remember to breathe.

“ It is power.” He said, his hand resting on her cheek. It burned but she enjoyed, dare say reveled, in the heat of his touch.

By inherent nature, Saber was disposed to being ascetic. As a king, she indulged in order to maintain appearances, truthfully, she rarely drank. However, in that moment, as Archer’s gaze held her’s, she felt sobriety slip from her holds. Even if his words were sheer madness, they sounded sweet as honey. He easily could enrapture someone of weaker will; men and women would gladly grovel in submission under his siren charms. And then there was the irrefutable allure to his eyes, hypnotic, dizzying. Her heart pounded with the intensity of it all.

 _Is this the power of which he speaks?_

Another line of scripture from the book of Genesis came to mind.

_And lead us not into temptation,_ _  
but deliver us from evil:  
For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen._

It took her a moment to find a suitable word to describe him, but then it rolled off the tongue.

“You’re the devil.”

“Perhaps I am” he breathed into her ear.

* * *

The spell lasted only for a second before prudence pushed aside the butterflies in her stomach and an erratically beating heart. She had seen the temptation of the devil, but He had given her the strength to overcome it. It was not her time, not yet.

Saber shoved Archer with mana infused strength. Although he did not soar across the room as she both intended and hoped, her shove created enough distance.

“ You are insufferable, Archer.”

 _Amusing, amusing, amusing._ Archer mused to himself. He was like a true hunter, and the best part of the hunt was the chase. However, this analogy did not do due justice to her. She was the forbidden fruit, she was the object of your desires that always laid out of your reach, she had to be his.

“ As are you. I would conclude that we are a match made in heaven.”

Saber crossed herself, touching her middle fingers to her forehead and then her left and right chest.

“ I will not be tempted today.” This conversation was over. She turned and proceeded to the other room, where Irisviel and Kiritsugu awaited.

Archer watched her escape, satisfied that he ruffled a few feathers and planted the seed of an idea. _All in due time._ Some things were worth the wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to say that Gilgamesh would make a perfect incarnation of the devil. Puts the devil in devilishly handsome am I right? And since I already wrote all these chapters, might as well just upload them :)


	3. Fall from Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May the descent begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3, enjoy!

_And Cain said unto the Lord, My punishment is greater than I can bear._

Genesis 4:13

* * *

The harrowing screams stopped abruptly. Blood flowed from a gash on Saber’s forehead, but she felt no pain. Lowering Excalibur, Saber allowed a smile to grace her worn face. _Caster had been stopped for now, the children were alright._ The number of casualties were demoralizing, the bodies of deformed and mutilated children littered the dark forest floor. Caster had brought these innocent children to the middle of the dark and expansive forest, his sick experiment waiting to be executed. But she had come, she had fought, and the end almost felt palpable! She vowed this would not be a repeat of Camlann. Upon that hill she had stood as the lone figure, gazing below at the remnants of her massacred kinsmen. The bodies and blood and her endless sorrows.

A child ran up to her and enveloped her in a hug, his tears staining her already dirtied armor. She released a sigh of relief and lifted a silver gauntlet, hovering it behind his back with all intentions of consoling the boy. But her face consorted to one of horror as unnatural shapes began forming on the boy’s back. It was almost as if something dwelling in him was constantly kicking at the skin, attempting to escape. The boy wailed a blood curding screech and then the eruption came.

He exploded and those vile, heathen fiends controlled by Caster splattered out. Then there was the blood. His blood. It coated the ground and her face a vivid red.

Saber saw the grotesque remains of the boy slide to the ground, her arm and hand frozen in the gesture of an impending hug. The dilated green pupils stared quivering at the bloody remainder of a human before her.

It always ended with blood.

* * *

Sweat pooled at the nape of Saber’s neck; blonde hair drenched. Her heart pounded intensely and the act of breathing became difficult.

_I can’t stay here._

Kicking off her blanket, Saber sprung to her feet and made for the door. She needed to get air, to get out of this lifeless, cold stone cage. With no destination in mind, but a clear purpose, Saber quickly traversed the empty corridors of the castle. No lights remained lit at this witching hour, nevertheless, she let instinct carry her. And so she strode on the black path out of the cage. Finally, she arrived in the side garden to be greeted by a moonless sky, the low rumbling of thunder and the barrage of torrential rain. It only required moments before her black suit, the outfit she had yet to change out of, became soaked.

_How fitting._

She stood there motionless; her eyes closed and fist clenched into fist so tight the whites of her knuckles could be seen. It hurt like hell. Saber desperately wanted to pummel something, or specifically someone. It hurt to feel like this. Again and again it was the same damn thing! The fall of Camelot, the lost battle of Camden, and now the massacre orchestrated by Caster.

She had let them down.

And they were children.

The memory plagued her, attacked her incessantly. The fresher the wound, the more it stung. And right now her shortcomings, her weakness, her inabilities had cost the lives of those innocent lambs just a few days prior.

Saber clenched her fist tighter. The rain continued its barrage upon her skin, a sensation she wished hurt infinitely more. Perhaps physical pain could mask the excruciating ache of her heart. She wanted to stop feeling that familiar agony, that raging anger, the despair of your hopes being crushed under the reality of this hell on Earth. She wanted it to all stop.

She fell to her knees and began smashing her fist into the hard, compact dirt. Mud caked her fists and splattered across her agonized face.

_Why do you lie, Lord?_ She cried, landing another blow to the ground. The rumble continued and a flash of lightning ripped across the night, creating zigzagging cracks in the sky, but Saber’s sights were focused below her.

_We are your children. Why do you make us suffer….._ Another flash of lighting detonated above.

_….make us endure these cruelties….._ a ear splitting bang sounded off, like a drummer conducting a performance, and the sky exploded with a cacophony of sounds.

_…make us slaves to your absurd whims?_

Her emotions boiled and boiled, and now the entirety of her being felt ready to erupt. Not here, she needed to settle this score elsewhere. Wiping the rain and mud from her eyes, Saber rose and half sprinted to the detached building that housed all the vehicles. It only took her a minute to find it, a black Yamaha motorcycle that sat next to Irisveil’s Mercedes.

In hindsight, riding a motorcycle in the rain ran against the grain of common sense. It did not matter to Saber though. She did not want comfort, that was a luxury that eluded her. That had been the cost of her decision the day she pulled the sword from the stone. Saber mounted herself and raced off down the winding roads. The rain blew directly into her face, barring her vision. Instead of slowing, she sped up, driving recklessly down the road without regards to the consequences. She did not say it aloud, but in her heart she knew that dying here and dying on the battlefield made little difference.

10 minutes pass, then 20. Her speed continually increased until all you could discern in the blur of the rain and the opaqueness of the night were the two taillights leaving a trail of red.

30 minutes into this journey, Saber stopped in front of the church that the masters and servants had gathered at a few days prior. Before, they had discussed strategies for defeating Caster. Now, Caster was dead, yet it felt like nothing had changed at all. The world still lived in a nightmare, a terror that haunted you every day and night, vigilant in its tyranny.

Dismounting, Saber approached the doors and unsurprisingly found it locked. Her frustration already at its peak, she ripped the doorknob off, pushed the doors open and marched inside.

The place remained as dismal and drab as she remembered. Sight was not required to know this. It was in the ambiance and the place felt as wretched as she did. She laughed an unhinged laugh. _Perfect_. The mood of this subpar mimicry of a church fit what she wanted. In the darkness, Saber walked to the altar, every step heavier than the last.

She felt the ledge that signified the raised platform where the altar was located. Instinct and rage made fine pairs of second eyes as Saber thrust her hand forward and gripped the candelabrum as if she was choking a snake. 

“You ask for tolerance!” she shouted into the void darkness.

“ You ask for loyalty!” the volume of her voice increased.

“ You ask for our devotions!” Saber was now screaming. The emotions had, at last, erupted.

“ You ask and ask, and take and take but you have NEVER delivered on your promises!” She threw the candelabrum hard, it hit the middle of the altar, the place where the depiction of Christ was located. She was now sobbing, the tears running uncontrollably down her cheeks.

“ So now I have doubts, Lord. I…..You are not real.” She whispered this last phrase and felt the pain inflicting her turn into a numbness. She lifted her hands and cupped her face, the tears continuing to roll. How odd, the tears were endless even though the pain finally subsided.

Then, in the silence and perilous blackness of the church emerged a floating light. Saber squinted her eyes and laughed a high pitched laugh.

“ Swift shall be His retribution.”

As the floating light approached, it coruscated the golden hair and cast a sinister shadow to red eyes. Then she noticed that the light was not produced by anything in his hands, but rather hung perched in front of a golden portal located above his head.

“ I can assure you I am not this retribution you babble on about, but rather a sleeping inhabitant woken by your shouting.”

Saber must have descended into a state of lunacy for she reached her hand and felt his cheek. He definitely was real. His skin felt warm against the dampened coldness of her hand. His eyes flickered for a moment in surprise, but he let her hand rest there.

“ Yes, you are retribution.” She said softly, “ You are the devil incarnate come to curse my soul to perdition.” Her thumb rubbed gently across his cheek. Saber never cared for appearances but conceded that he possessed an intoxicating charm. The manner in which he cocked his head, the sly grin across his lips, the hypnotizing allure of his red eyes; this man had been Helen long before there was a Troy for her to destroy. With his golden hair down and currently framing his face in a boyish manner, she could only call him handsome. 

“Devil?” she asked innocently, “ Are you here to tempt me?”

His mouth stretched into a wide grin. Gently lowering her hand, he now cupped her face into his palms and pulled her closer. Their bodies were flushed against one another and Saber could feel the warmth seeping from the thin cotton of his white shirt. The position of their bodies would spark contention amongst the noble ladies of Camelot. Less had to be done to be called a harlot in those days; God did not forgive those who are loose with their chastity. But quite frankly, she did not care what some stuck up ladies of 5th century England, nor God, thought. He now stared intently into her eyes, as if devouring her soul.

“ Before I answer your question, you shall answer mine.” He searched her face for signs of resistance but found none. “ Do you wish to be tempted?”

Saber closed her eyes briefly. Her decision had already been made before she entered this church. “ The last time we spoke, you offered me power. I want to experience this power.” Her weary eyes were locked on his.” So devil, tempt me and make it so I can be rid of these pesky other feelings. I just want to ….” she hesitated, collecting her bearings. “ I just want to feel okay.”

He now was grinning from ear to ear. “ Worry not, I can provide you all the joys of this Earth. And call me Gilgamesh.”

Within a blink of an eye, Gilgamesh captured her lips and spared no time in offering her the temptations of a devil. She was sinning, but then why did this act of sinning feel so pleasurable? He roughly ravaged her mouth and she welcomed his touch. He was not gentle with his ministrations, and Saber was glad for it. She did not want gentle kisses and love, she wanted power and passion as she descended into hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saber is best girl who is far too good for this world. Also, I do have a continuation of the ending in the making. As you all may assume, the next scene would be a sex scene. I will probably post it differently just so the rating for this story doesn't need to change. Otherwise, I hope you guys enjoyed the essentially abridged version of Saber's descent into hell via metaphorical devil Gil.


End file.
